


Awkward Courtship

by clumzyblaze



Category: Bleach
Genre: Clumsy but powerful Ichigo, Friendship, Grimmjow is delighted, Ichigo Is Oblivious, Ichigo Kurosaki and Rukia Kuchiki friendship is gold, Ichigo has a thing for tattoos, Ichigo is a little shit, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Romance, Rukia is not delighted, Urahara Kisuke (mentionned)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2020-07-10 10:11:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19904047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clumzyblaze/pseuds/clumzyblaze
Summary: Ichigo’s fucked up life and embarrassing clumsiness are the highlight of Grimmjow’s days.A 4 + 1 in which the savior of the world is just one big gauche sap when it comes to the Ex-Sexta Espada, and it takes time for him to realize his affection is not unrequited.





	1. Hybrid rabbit and electric pole

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys!  
> Hope you enjoy this first chapter!  
> And huge thanks to my amazing beta oldtown156, who fixed my dumb frenchie mistakes <3  
> 

“Ifigo! You better run, you moron, if I catch you I swear I’m going to revel in icing the hell out of what hangs between your legs and shattering them with my bare hands!”

Ichigo shuddered, even if he had been on the verge of losing it, laughter stuck in his throat and eyes watering, for fifteen minutes now. Rukia was not playing around.  
Just to be sure, his hand patted his manhood, checking it remained at a suitable temperature. Satisfied with the result, and still running for his life, jumping from roof to roof to escape the furry ball of fury that had become his roommate, he glanced behind him.

Which, he admitted, was a big strategic error.

The second his gaze met the sight of Rukia, he lost concentration, and his right foot tripped over a roof tile. He smashed onto the roof with all the grace of a terrorized goat, stiff legs briefly passing above his head and finishing their miserable course behind him.  
Before he could even think about gathering his abused limbs in a slightly less ridiculous position, a weight dropped on his back and his face was uncomfortably mushed against the hot tiles. Lips stuck to his gums and mouth starting to salivate, Ichigo grew suddenly aware of the dangerosity of the situation. He slowly lifted his gaze towards his torturer, warily twisting his aching body to discern her expression. And all his fear vanished like snow in the hot summer sun.

Rukia was angry, there was no denying it. Her tensed features and vengeful eyes were screaming at him to back off, crawl into a hole and wait for the storm to pass.  
Which, to be clear, he would have done had the situation been any different. But the shivering, furry grey muzzle replacing her usual proud, pointy nose and the two long white rectangular teeth sticking out of the angry line of her mouth prevented him from being serious.

His back shook under the hilarity he couldn’t restrain.  
His laughter was quickly cut off when Rukia’s hand switched pressure from his head to his nape, transforming his snickering into short, pathetic and strangled whines.

Yep, he was totally going to deny those sounds later.

“I advise you to hand me the antidote right now if you don’t want your pitifully short life to end on this pitifully useless roof.”

Which raised the question of what exactly was a ‘useless roof’. Because as far as Ichigo could see, everything seemed alright with this roof. He could have understood if it had, say, holes in it, or you know, if it was just a roof without a house underneath, or better yet, a roof on top of another roof.  
But this roof was just a regular roof on top of a regular house doing its regular job of protecting it, and Ichigo was a little offended on its behalf.

But before he could add ‘protector of all honest working rooves’ to his list of honorific titles, he remembered that it was neither the time nor the place to have those kind of thoughts.

Whenever they fought, Rukia seemed to be able to keep herself together, always having a sharp and quick retort on the tip of her tongue. He had always been the hot-headed one, answering without thinking, anger and adrenaline taking control of his mouth and body.  
But here she was, sputtering nonsense in his ear, static crazy eyes locked on his.  
Ichigo had never seen her like this.  
And because Ichigo possessed no survival instinct whatsoever, the thought made him more proud than afraid.

She had trouble pronouncing certain syllables because of her huge teeth, and he was pretty sure he had heard her call him ‘Ifigo’ while screaming death threats. He was fighting really hard not to erupt in a fit of laughter right now to avoid angering the already fuming lieutenant sitting on his back.

At least in this position his balls were safe, he told himself.

Face still painfully crushed against the tiles, Ichigo was only able to answer her with a plaintive, “Mmmmph.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, you can’t answer me?” The sadism emanating from her voice gave Ichigo a full body shiver.

Hybrid rabbit or not, he always had doubts about Rukia’s sanity, and this particular tone was doing nothing to appease him.  
Could she actually bite him with those teeth? They seemed kind of strong. He was definitely not thinking about the creative places Rukia could come up with to bite him where it would hurt the most. Nope.

She pressed one last time on his nape for good measure and released him, clearly inviting him to talk.  
Bracing himself for the anger which would undoubtedly follow his next words, Ichigo smiled innocently.

“There is no antidote.”

Rukia’s reaction was immediate. Her weight disappeared from his spine and one hand grabbed his shoulder, flipping him on his back like a flabby pancake.

Rukia was now sitting on his stomach, squashing his intestines, and he was having a hard time breathing.

How this tiny, bony creature managed to actually crush him with her weight was a mystery.  
Maybe the force of her rage had transformed into body weight. He had to ask Urahara if that was a thing. It could really be useful in battle.  
Ichigo spoke again before she decided that icing his intestines was a good idea.

Also, his balls were not protected anymore, and he had to physically restrain his hands not to fly to their rescue.

“There is no antidote because the effects are only temporary. When I bought this from Urahara, he told me it should last a few hours, two max. So don’t worry, you’ll get your usual snout back soon enough.”

Rukia’s outraged eyes had not left him during his explanation. They freezed as soon as the last words left his stupid, suicidal mouth, icy purple emphasized by the twisted smile hanging on her lips.

Then, the hands crushing his stomach became frozen, instantly transforming the fabric under her hands into ice. The sheer, violent and brutal coldness burned and penetrated his skin, sliding under his uniform and spreading like a deadly virus.

With a yelp, Ichigo pushed Rukia’s hands away and sent a kick aimed at her stomach that ended up way below.  
Well, no time to be repentant. The kick, as perverted as it had been, succeeded in making her back away and he was more relieved than ashamed.

He grabbed Zangetsu which had fallen to the floor when Ichigo had, and adopted a fighting stance.

To be fair, he deserved her anger.  
Replacing her usual candy with Urahara’s pills was low.  
But he had been very, very bored. And he had also counted on her weird rabbit obsession for her not to be too angry with him.  
Clearly, there had been a miscalculation somewhere in his plan.  
Ichigo did not regret it though.  
The astonished expression plastered on her face while she had touched her muzzle for the first time was worth all the gold in the world and more.  
Shaking the happy memories from his mind, Ichigo remembered he was supposed to be angry.

“The hell was that for? You could have killed me!” he howled at her while winging Zangetsu wildly in the air.

And that was not even overstating it. Since the fight against the Quincy, her power had increased a lot. She did not need her sword to freeze him from the inside; he had witnessed it.  
He did not want to remember her expression of pure delight the night Rukia had found out about it, while fighting against a particularly chatty hollow. She had frozen his tongue first, suppressing his ability to talk but not the panic-stricken moans and groans coming out of his alarmingly white mouth.  
The sounds of the terrified hollow and Rukia’s ruthless and entranced laugh still kept him awake at night.  
She had been living in his closet, for fuck’s sake.  
Now, he woke up with a start each time he felt cold air caressing his exposed skin. It was mid-July, and he was still sleeping with his duvet on. Nose buried under it and all.

“And if you were not such an asshole, I would have succeeded,” was the cold response Rukia granted him before lunging at him once again, long whiskers flying in the wind.

Ichigo was not amused anymore. He reacted as every sane man would while being confronted by Rukia’s wrath: he ran screaming for the hills. Without the screaming, of course. He had saved the world two times now, damnit, he was NOT going to scream while being chased by a rabbit-shinigami.  
And if a little moan of fear escaped his traitorous lips, it was too faint to be picked up by Rukia, and he sure as hell was going to keep it to himself.

Increasing his spiritual pressure to go faster, he jumped off the roof to avoid the ivory hand of ice which had every intention of grasping his ankle.  
Once more on the ground, he threw a glance behind him to check Rukia’s position. Yep, still on his heels, Sode no Shirayuki unsheathed, upper lip curled over her two rodent teeth, muzzle quivering with anger.

It was a pity she hadn’t grown a tail and furry ears. It would have been even funnier, Ichigo’s non-existent survival instinct whispered sweetly to his ears.

Speeding up again while taking a turn to his left, he swung Zangetsu to slice the wall of ice that had just appeared in front of him. The wall broke down with a sickening crack, and he had to jump to dodge the millions of sharp white crystals which would have pierced through his skin.

The zigzags he had to execute because of her repeated attacks were dizzying. He also had to choose all the empty streets to avoid bumping into oblivious humans at full speed, and that was maybe what exhausted him the most.

Ok, it was time to give Urahara’s technique a go. As much fun as he was having now, he did not want to be transformed into a giant block of ice.  
Predicting Rukia was not going to be happy with his little prank, the former captain had given him a way of stopping the enraged shinigami.

If it did not work though, he was dead. No big deal.

Mustering all the courage he had, Ichigo suddenly stopped his course, turned around in a blur of black and fiery orange and dug his heels into the ground.  
The widening of Rukia’s purple eyes told him he had at least succeeded in confusing her.  
It could be his small consolation prize when Rukia would put her earlier dreadful threat into practice.

Then, he looked straight into her gaze, opened his mouth, summoned his hollow energy and growled like a wild animal, eyes flashing gold and baring his teeth. The sound, deep and guttural, scratched the walls of his throat and resonated low into his chest.

Every muscle in his body tensed, and he closed his eyes, waiting for the murderous ice to lurk towards him.  
1 mississipi  
2 mississipi  
3 mississipi

One amber eye opened cautiously. And Ichigo stared.  
Rukia had come to an abrupt stop, limbs frozen by fear, muzzle shaking like she was going to cry. Her black hair was in total disarray, the long lock usually caressing her nose stuck between her two inhuman teeth.

Ichigo could not believe it. He blinked owlishly, stupefied. It had worked.

Rabbits were easily frightened animals, Urahara had told him. Growl like you mean it and she should back off.

Well, against all odds, it had actually worked.

He waved his hand in front of Rukia’s unresponding eyes, obtaining zero reaction. She was truly frozen by fear.  
He whooped in delight, parading with his chin held high and stomping his feet on the ground like an overexcited child just in front of Rukia’s nose.

But he quickly became tired of her lethargy.  
He could not enjoy his victory while her stormy eyes were dulled by this bone-deep panic. Plus, she looked like she was going to pee herself.  
And her muzzle was too cute to torture her any further.  
He booped it in curiosity, hoping that the fear holding her down would also make her a little amnesiac when she became herself again. It was humid under his finger, and it flinched and sniffed when he touched it. He retracted his hand quickly.

Then, not knowing when Rukia was going to come back to her senses, he decided to move ahead and try to look for a hole in which he could hide for at least three days, waiting for her anger to weaken.

He resumed running, leaving Rabbit-Rukia right in the middle of the empty street.

That’s when he felt it.  
The familiar spiritual pressure pressed against his skin, hungry and unleashed, lightening him up from the insides.  
His tanned skin was covered in goosebumps instantaneously, his mind chanting for the other’s power. Ichigo’s own spiritual pressure increased instinctively, as if responding to an unspoken challenge.

Still running, he lifted his head to spot the newcomer.  
Grimmjow was standing above with an ardent look fixed on him, the unmistakable black walls of a Garganta closing behind him.  
One hand in his pocket and the other on Pantera’s hilt, his posture was relaxed, back slightly slouched. Magnificient, dangerous, exhilarating.  
The soft summer wind tangled his blue locks. His jacket was opened and his pants were as low as ever on his hips. Ichigo’s heart jumped in his chest, breath short.

Ichigo envied his nonchalance. He knew better than anyone that the power coursing through his veins was everything but easy to tame. He could feel the angry, scorching bursts of Grimmjow’s bloodthirsty reiatsu from here.

Too distracted by the eyes boring into his, he had missed one screaming detail.  
A deep black tribal tattoo now ran on his left pectoral, crossing the scar from their first meeting and sliding to his abs, parting into two broad lines around his hollow hole and assembling again to disappear into his pants.  
The black ink stood out clearly against the pearly white skin, highlighting all the hard planes of muscle on his chest and stomach.

And then, his intoxicated amber eyes still glued to where the tattoo dropped out of sight, Ichigo rammed face first and at full speed into an electric pole.  
Because his life was that fucked up.  
His arms stretched out in front of him while his body and face were painfully and abruptly halted, stealing his breath away. He fell over backwards, crashing heavily to the ground, pride flying away without looking back.  
Skull ringing, Ichigo released the only intelligible sound that he was capable of producing as he propped his elbows.

“Uuuuh.”

His elocution was on point today.

Hand on his forehead and cross-eyed, Ichigo saw feet dressed in black socks and white sandals, deadly familiar, land on the ground with grace and approach him before stopping centimeters away from his slumped body. Ichigo lifted his gaze slowly, eyes hovering over the loose white pants tightened on narrow hips by a large black belt, and… froze again on the magnetizing ebony ink diving into the arrancar’s trousers, mesmerized.

“I hope you know you’re never going to live this one down, Kurosaki. And my eyes are up there.”

Too stunned to feel even the slightest bit of shame, Ichigo’s caramel eyes met Grimmjow’s azur ones.  
His stomach instantaneously plummeted into his shoes.

As if Grimmjow’s appearance was not dangerous and destructive enough by itself.  
He had to own the most lethally gorgeous set of eyes Ichigo had ever encountered.  
He was sure men and women would gladly commit murder for those eyes. Probably did, too, if Grimmjow still had his eye color from when he was human.

Their otherworldly shade was underlined by their trenchant catlike shape and tempered by the roundness of his eyelids. The pointy teal colored marks under his thick eyelashes framed his gaze perfectly, revealing the bestial and feral nature of their owner.  
Their intensity was simply vertiginous, and Ichigo’s headache was increasing.  
Too bright, too vivid, too real. Too easy to fall into and too fast to make you forget about everything else.  
The perfect weapon for a hunter like Grimmjow.

Suddenly, jolting him from his reverie and without any warning, a fist flattened against his right cheek, and his body followed the movement, falling back on its side.  
Dazed, and to be honest a little upset by the rude treatment, Ichigo wiped off the saliva and the blood running down his lips and rubbed his cheek, mumbling to himself. He thought he and Grimmjow had found some common ground since the end of the war.

Two months after Yhwach’s defeat, Ichigo, bored out of his mind, swords screaming for a fight and restless body prickling with power, had tackled Urahara on the floor one memorable Sunday morning and had asked him to send the ginger to Hueco Mundo.  
The occasional hollows were not enough to blow off some steam anymore, and even wise, calm, quiet Zangetsu had started to murmur violent speeches in his mind. Ichigo needed to have a good fight or he was going to turn insane.

Soul Society had still been using every one of its captains and lieutenants to help rebuild the ruins of the Sereitei, and he had had enough decency to leave them alone.

Who was he kidding.  
Ichigo had sent Renji multiple fencer emojis, one hospital and five question marks not even two weeks after he had returned to the human world. Renji had answered with a photo of Byakuya’s pinched face; turned down mouth and cold disagreeing grey eyes.  
Ichigo had answered with an emoji of a salt mill. It didn’t mean anything, but he knew Renji was going to be confused and too proud to ask him, and he had wanted to torture him a little. Let Renji think really hard about that one.

Then, he facetimed Rukia, who had just turned the camera around and showed him her brother’s disapproving face. Cold bastard.  
Was there such a thing as a cock-block but fighting-wise? Fight-block? Because Byakuya Kuchiki sure was the perfect personification of it.

Desperate- and not planning to go as far as visiting Soul Society to look for a fight- Ichigo had sat down, thinking hard about anyone he could have forgotten whom he could lure into having a fight with him.

Then, he had facepalmed. Twice. And he had ran to Urahara. And had facepalmed once more because he was an idiot.

When he had landed in the familiar white sands of Hueco Mundo, he’d had approximately sixty seven seconds (Ichigo definitely had not counted) of silence before Grimmjow had appeared in a flash of fatally blue spiritual pressure.  
Exultant smile on his lips, Ichigo had breathed in the scents of power, violence and edginess that had emanated from Grimmjow in waves. Lungs full and body feverish, he had asked:

“Still up for that fight?”

He’d been so impatient his voice had cracked a little at the end. Grimmjow hadn’t seemed to mind. The Arrancar had hopped from right to left, cracked his neck (the sound had made Ichigo shiver), grinned like a madman and brushed the savage blue locks away from his electric eyes.

“Bring it on, Kurosaki.”

The fight had been delightful.  
Later, lying on Hueco Mundo’s sand like a broken starfish, mouth dry, limbs aching, blood everywhere and eyes alive, Grimmjow had declared:

“Not gonna kill ya, Kurosaki. Too much fun to fight with you.”

The confession had startled him. The happy tug his heart gave not so much.

“As if you could.”

He had responded, coughing blood and loving every second of it.

“Don’t tempt me.”

But Grimmjow’s slumped body had not made any attempt at moving. When Ichigo’s head had turned to look at him; his magnetic eyes had been closed, green marks more striking than he had ever seen, and his mouth was turned up in a playful and satisfied smile. His usually white jaw mask and bright blue hair had been shining with dark, thick, red blood. His entire body had still been glistening with the remnants of his devastatingly strong spiritual pressure.  
Muscles relaxed and bulging. Dangerous yet unguarded. His hollow hole lifting and descending with his rapid breathing.

A godly demon.

Ichigo had been enthralled. Burning amber eyes had travelled on his body with hectic precision. Trying to carve the sight in his memory, trying to touch, to reach with his gaze only.

For days after, he had not been able to move one inch of his body without hissing in pain.

After that, it had become a weekly routine. Ichigo went to Hueco Mundo and they fought like there was no tomorrow. Their relationship was still weirdly indefinable though. Easy banter and easy physical proximity, but still cautious with their concessions and anything that approached acknowledging what they were.  
It was not rainbows and unicorns every day, they had their fair share of arguments, but it was pleasant, and that was why this sudden punch in the face was very much uncalled for to Ichigo’s humble opinion.

“Hitting a man when he’s down, Grimmjow; I thought we were past that.”

Grimmjow tilted his head like an overgrown amused cat, shrugged one shoulder and stretched his lips in a sardonic smile.

“Your right eye was twitching like a writhing fish. Problem solved now. No need to thank me.”

His eye effectively had stopped blinking like an epileptic in crisis.

It was kind of affectionate, right? Grimmjow had tried to stop something that had obviously bothered Ichigo. In his usual violent and impulsive manner, but still.  
God, he was really fucked up if a punch could make his heart flutter like that.

Not grateful to the point of verbalizing it, Ichigo breathed loudly to show his discontent and pushed on his left hand to heave his stunned body off the ground.

But a calloused hand invaded his field of vision, palm opened, long fingers stretched and inviting.  
Grimmjow’s eyes were teasing, but Ichigo did not find a single trace of deceit, so he slid his hand in the other man’s and let himself be dragged onto his feet.

“Just so you know, the electric poles aren’t a danger to your precious city yet; you don’t need to exterminate them. Plus, from what I just saw, they would drag your shinigami ass through the mud.”

Giving the arrogant arrancar one of his dirty looks, and still slightly dazed, Ichigo muttered, “How would you know, it’s been months since you set foot here; lots of things could have happened. Electric poles would not be the weirdest thing I’ve ever fought.”

Grimmjow snickered, smile getting bigger to reveal two long and sharp white canines.  
Smile as blinding as ever.  
Seeing Grimmjow’s dentition did not cause Ichigo the same hilarity as Rukia’s one did.

Ichigo swallowed painfully. His head was pounding, and he needed all his concentration to handle Grimmjow right now.

“How are you so sure I was not around, Kurosaki? I do not come see you every time I’m here, don’t be so full of yourself.”

“I know for a fact you do, lying bastard.” Ichigo deadpanned.

Brain still confused, fascinated eyes on the arrancar’s biting smile, Ichigo continued, “Your spiritual pressure is like a big fucking fireworks to my senses. Would feel you in this world even if you were having a fight with a kangaroo in Australia.”

Grimmjow eyed him curiously, pleased smile on his lips, one blue eyebrow raised.

“Why would I pick a fight with a kangaroo?” he asked, mischievous.

“Shut up, you would pick a fight with anything that has fists. Plus, kangaroos are kind of nasty. Your blue hair would probably piss them off. Would not surprise me if they tried to head-butt you.”

Ichigo rubbed his forehead. Fuck, it hurt. He was not sure if it was only the aftermath of the blow or if it was his overwhelming shame that was physically hurting him.

“I won’t fight with a kangaroo. They’re cute,” Grimmjow declared very seriously, as if the thought had offended him personally.

Recovering from the surprise of hearing Grimmjow calling anything ‘cute’, Ichigo glanced at the arrancar’s legs.

“Come to think of it, your legs in your resurrection form kind of look like a kangaroo’s legs,” Ichigo said with a daring smile. Riling Grimmjow up may allow him to get rid of the remnants of shame he was feeling.

However, the arrancar did not seem in the mood to get angry. His teeth still on display, Grimmjow answered calmly and without a hint of hardness in his voice.

“One kangaroo’s punch could knock out any of you weak humans; gotta compare me with something else if you want to insult me.”

“Why do you know so much about kangaroos?” Ichigo asked, puzzled and really, really curious.

“I brought one back to Hueco Mundo once. It killed twenty hollows. But then an adjuchas got it. Pity, really, we got along well.” Voice serious, his eyes had wandered behind Ichigo while he was talking, smile turning nostalgic.

Ichigo’s mouth fell open, eyes as round as saucers. Was it even possible? Could an animal from the living world go to Hueco Mundo? Could a kangaroo have spiritual pressure?

But before he could give himself an aneurysm in thinking about it too hard, Grimmjow poked him in the chest and wrapped an arm around his shoulders.  
His hip was burning against Ichigo’s, and the relaxed hand brushing against his pectoral made him shiver. The position had become weirdly usual since their first fight. He had soon discovered Grimmjow did not care one bit about the concept of personal space. Not that he was complaining.

“I’m fucking with you. Jeez, you hit that pole pretty hard. I’m kinda offended though; none of my punches ever got you so dizzy.”

Yeah, well usually when Grimmjow punched him in the face he knew it was coming. The fucking electric pole had been an unfortunate surprise. And Ichigo was starting to think that the sight of Grimmjow’s tattoo had maybe fried a few of his neurons on the spot. Grimmjow was giving a whole new meaning to the word ‘hot’.

Without realising it, his eyes slid once again to the arrancar’s chest.

“You want a peek, shinigami? You have been ogling me since I arrived.”

Ichigo was far past feeling shameful, and he decided that he could curse himself tomorrow. Live in the moment and all that crap.

“How far down does it go?” he asked boldly, looking straight into Grimmjow’s infatuating eyes; who obviously did not think Ichigo had it in him, according to the widening of blue orbs.

Rude, Ichigo thought.

But Grimmjow pulled himself together quickly, and gave him a sharp, appreciative smile, playfulness shining bright in his sapphire eyes.

“I’ll tell you, but then I’ll have to kill you,” he said right in Ichigo’s ear, breath ghosting on his neck, and arm tightening around his shoulder.

Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez, arrancar, ex-Sexta Espada, second in command of Hueco Mundo, was quoting Sherlock Holmes to him. His aching head was having trouble concentrating. But his mouth had never had any problems running without his brain’s approval.

“You owe me this, exhibitionist asshole; I took a pole in the face because of you.”

Grimmjow chuckled, seemingly enchanted by Ichigo’s declaration.

His laughing chest was very distracting.

“If I knew I just had to get a tattoo on my chest to get you this dazzled, I would have done it years ago. Would have saved me some scars.”

“Oh yeah, like you mind. I caught you caressing them and smiling in the mirror last time.”

Ichigo feared Grimmjow’s mouth was stuck in an everlasting smile at this point. Did the hybrid break him?

“Don’t play virtuous with me Kurosaki- you have done your fair share of staring at them too.”

“I was assessing the damage. Being the son of a doctor, you know.”

Yep, that was a lie. And a poorly told one at that.

“If you want to be believable, maybe you should wipe off the drool on your chin,” Grimmjow said while gesturing to his own chin.

“Your modesty is astounding,” Ichigo grumbled, trying to shove Grimmjow’s arm away from his shoulder.

The arrancar curled a muscled arm around his neck in response, hand coming up to ruffle already disheveled orange hair. Ichigo’s mouth was pressing against Grimmjow’s neck, his red-hot skin igniting a fire on his lips. He gulped it down, and the wild flames charred his palate, his throat and his lungs before lodging themselves in his fast-beating heart.

“Your mouth is saying one thing, but your eyes are telling a different story, Kurosaki. You must be terrible at poker.”

“If you are so skilled at reading my emotions, you should understand this one pretty easily.”

His lips brushed over Grimmjow’s neck as he spoke, and Ichigo relished in the feeling before he batted Grimmjow’s warm hand away from his hair and moved slightly away to be able to look him in the eyes.

Then, giving him his more bored look, scowling, and without making any sound, Ichigo mouthed the words, “Go fuck yourself.”

Grimmjow snickered, clearly amused by his behaviour. He slapped Ichigo gently across the head, hand lingering in the hair at his nape and tugging at the ends.

“As much fun as I’m having, I have to go back to Hueco Mundo. Not everyone can be as lazy as you, fucking around with urban property all day.”

Then, without bothering to wait for Ichigo’s reply, Grimmjow disentangled himself from their weird embrace, reached a hand in his pocket and pushed a little red device at Ichigo’s chest. Ichigo caught it, turning it in his hands to examine. It was a watch. Red bracelet and black dial, with a badly drawn, white hollow in the center.

“What the fuck is this?” Ichigo asked, bewildered.

Grimmjow ignored his question and opened a Garganta right before his eyes. He gave him a mysterious smile, hands already back in his pockets.  
Ichigo’s shoulders were cold now.

“Give this to Urahara in the next fifteen minutes.”

“What happens if it’s not in fifteen minutes?,” Ichigo inquired, picking at the watch and bringing it to his ears to hear the quiet sounds of ticking.

“Could explode. Could transform into a giant worm. Could absorb the life of the fucker who has it in his hands. Who knows, it’s Urahara,” he said while shrugging his shoulders.

“Why did you wait so long before handing it to me, then, dickhead?” Ichigo said, horrified, holding the watch away from him with one finger as if it was a ticking bomb, nose scrunched up in anticipation.

“Because your life would be dull without a challenge, shinigami.”

Well, the bastard had a point.

“Oh and one more thing before I go,” the annoying assohole said.

He pointed a finger to Ichigo’s body, smouldering eyes stopping below his chest to where Ichigo’s stomach was hidden under his uniform.

“This new uniform, does every shinigami have to wear it, or you just decided to flash us today? Because honestly there are some of your friends I wouldn’t want to see in this.”

Confused, not understanding the nonsense Grimmjow was talking about, Ichigo looked down at his uniform and yelped in surprise.

Rukia’s first attack had transformed one piece of his uniform to ice, and now that it had melted, his abs were on full display. The hole in the black fabric was perfectly round and neat, as if it was made to be worn like this.  
Located in the same place as Grimmjow’s hollow hole, he noticed. Oh, sweet irony.  
And he had been so focused on Grimmjow that he had not even see, or felt, the big fucking hole in his uniform.

“Not that I’m complaining. You could use a little exhibitionism once in a while,” Grimmjow added.

“Well, it’s true that I work hard for those to- Wait, why would I need a little exhibitionism?”

He was offended by the comment and Ichigo didn’t even know why. What, his usual clothes were not fashionable enough, sexy enough for Grimmjow? Well he could go fuck himself right-

“Because you have the body for it,” the arrancar responded, as if it was obvious.

Ichigo shut his mouth with an audible clap, sharp comeback dying on his tongue.  
He could practically hear the unspoken ‘duh’ at the end of Grimmjow’s sentence.

Stunned by the compliment (because it was one, wasn’t it?), Ichigo watched Grimmjow turn his back on him, smirking, and enter the Garganta with a lazy hand salute, saying, “See you tomorrow, Kurosaki,” and disappeared instantly.

Ichigo took a second to recover his breath and to understand what had just happened. But nothing made sense, and he decided to think about it tomorrow when his mind would be less of a mess. He shook his head and lifted his right foot to take off in the direction of Urahara’s store.

“So, that explains a lot of things.”

Ichigo jerked at the sardonic voice, hands coming up to feel his erratic heartbeat while turning around.

He had completely forgotten about Rukia.

She had obviously snapped out of her terror and was now walking towards him at a slow pace, caustic smile on her lips. Her huge teeth were still in the way, and the resulting contorted movement of her mouth was more frightening than usual.  
He took a careful step back. Sode no Shirayuki was back in its sheath, and Rukia did not seem to want to murder him in cold blood anymore, but he was still on guard.  
His combat-trained eyes watching her every step, he asked, “What are you talking about?”

Her pupils were dilated, her hands were on her hips and her muzzle was sniffing the air like crazy.  
Rukia’s confidence and obvious interest were bad news.

“I think I just witnessed your most pathetic moment. And I once saw you weep like a toddler while watching Meet Joe Black. So that says a lot.”

Fuck.

“I thought I was alone that day, you demonic stalker.”

He really thought he had been. Otherwise Ichigo would never have let himself go as he had done.  
Admittedly, he knew the movie was so absurd and sappy, it was a tragedy.  
But Ichigo had just allowed himself to aknowledge his feelings for the ex-Espada, and had also been feeling stupid and sorry for himself on that particular afternoon.  
So he had sat through this god-awful three-hour movie and had ruined an entire box of tissues with an alarmingly massive amount of snot. Some of the sofa’s black cushions were still tainted by his bodily fluids. Ichigo told Yuzu he had accidentally spilled porridge on it.

“Wait, what did you witness exactly?”

Please not the electric pole.  
Please not the electric pole

“Oh, everything,” Rukia commented. Ichigo swore he could see her whiskers shaking with glee.

“Meaning?”

Ichigo needed a clear answer before he embarrassed himself any further.

“Meaning that yes, I know why you have that black eye and why one side of your face is redder than Canada’s flag.”

Ichigo deflated like a balloon pierced by a cunning needle. And then, brow furrowed, he wondered if Rukia knew every color of every flag.

“Don’t give me that look. I went to school with you, I know a lot of things about the human world now.”

He was going to point out that it was not what he was thinking at all when she continued, index finger pointed accusingly in his direction:

“But I also know why your eyes are disgustingly shining and why your mouth does that sappy thing it’s doing.”

His mouth immediately fell. Shit. Had he been smiling this whole time?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Rukia.”

Voice even, he attempted to hide his dread by disguising it with annoyance.  
She took a good look at him, eyes hard and analyzing.

Then, she dropped onto the ground in a sitting position, legs crossed. And took a notebook and a pen out from her bra. At least Ichigo guessed it was from there, judging by where her hands had disappeared. Mouth agape and confused, Ichigo went to sit next to her. She obviously did not want to kill him anymore. Unless it was all a trap. He decided he didn’t care either way.

“Ok, let me illustrate with a more universal language.”

And she started to draw with her usual atrocious, blurry and rough strokes. He looked at her long and delicate fingers and wondered how something so skilled with a sword could be so lousy at holding a pen.

When he looked at the drawing again though, he recognized it instantly. She was drawing the ‘distracted boyfriend meme’. She really had spent too much time in the human world, he thought, amused.  
His amusement died down soon after she started writing the caption on each character.  
On the first woman, the one with the angry and indignant expression, she wrote ‘Beautiful young women with great physical attributes and a sane mind’. On the guy holding the first woman’s hand but looking back at an another girl with interest, she wrote ‘Your dumb mug’. And on the last character, the girl in red, she wrote ‘Hundred year old murderer with blue hair who stated multiple times he wanted to kill you’.

Ichigo’s breath caught in his throat. He had to look like a deer in headlights. He stood up abruptly, and stammered through his grinding jaw, “That’s-that’s not. You’re insane.”

Rukia leaned a pointy elbow on her thigh and rested her cheek on a dainty hand, eyes unwavering and inflexible.

There was no point in lying. He hated having to lie to Rukia. But until now, Ichigo just had to avoid talking about it. Now that she had confronted him, he did not have the heart to deny it. Maybe it would feel good to finally admit it out loud and talk to someone about it.

“He told me he didn’t want to kill me anymore,” he said shyly but self-assured, rubbing his neck.

Rukia’s expression softened and she patted the empty place where he was sitting a few seconds ago.

Ichigo sat down once more, sighing loudly.

“Happy to hear it. Doesn’t change the murderer part though,” she said with a reassuring hand on his knee.

Ichigo lied down, arms under his head and eyes closed.

“I am one too. You are one too. Practically every one I know is a murderer. War does that to people.” His voice was tired but firm. He needed Rukia to understand, to see it from his point of view.

“And if it’s the hollow part that bothers you, I may have to ask you to take a good look at who you’re talking to,” he added after a while when she hadn’t answered.

He felt her lie down against him and the wind caused by her movement caressed his face and orange hair.

“If it bothered me, I would not be repeatedly putting myself in the line of fire to save your ungrateful ass.” She ended her sentence by a gentle pinch on his stomach.

He smiled.

“I would advise you to be careful, but I think the meaning of the word is something your dumb brain cannot comprehend.”

“There’s nothing to be careful about. Not like I was going to act on it or anything. It’ll pass.”

He had decided to bury his feelings the day he had acknowledged them. A human/shinigami/hollow/quincy having the hots for an ex-espada. What a joke.

Rukia’s voice raised again, gentler than ever before.

“Ichigo, please enlighten me- how many people have you been attracted to in your life?”

He lifted his hand, planning on raising a finger with each name he’d give her.  
But only one name came to mind. Grimmjow’s.

Of course he’d noticed Rukia’s marvelous purple eyes, or Orihime’s stunning face, or Renji’s impressive musculature. He had looked, alright. But it was merely a superficial interest.  
He loved everyone of them with all his heart.  
But none of them made his palms sweaty, his heart unstable and his legs shaky. Their simple presence didn’t make him feel on edge, make him feel vulnerable and all-mighty all at once. None of their reiatsu awakened the deepest and darkest part of him, made him feel like he could be entirely himself and even lose control if he wanted to. None of their company filled him with barely contained glee, peacefulness and serenity. None of them were Grimmjow and Ichigo doubted anyone else could ever make him feel that way.

His silence told Rukia everything she desired to know.

“My point exactly. And the whole reason I told you to be careful.”

He sat up again, elbows on his knees and hands in his hair.

“I am not going to act on it. We’re finally in a good place, there’s no way I’m going to jeopardize whatever unsteady thing we have going on with my stupid feelings.”

He’d rather spend time with him and never tell Grimmjow anything rather than seeing the arrancar pull away because of his unrequited affection. Could they even feel such a thing? Nel seemed to like him very much, but could the feeling of ‘love’ be felt by an arrancar?

“If I have to watch one more of your cringing interactions, I am actually going to kill myself. So for my sake, and the sake of whatever pride you have left, yes, you are.” She punctuated her sentence by flicking him in the chest.

He rubbed the abused skin while looking straight in her determined eyes.

“No, I’m not.”

“Do you really think the most unpredictable and angriest arrancar would let you get this close to him without tearing your throat open if he didn’t like you even a little bit?”

Grimmjow was a tactile creature. It was at odds with his independent and furious temperament, but it had nothing to do with Ichigo.

But before he could make his point heard, Rukia continued.

“Do you think he would have fight-dates- I can’t believe I’m saying that, your life is so fucked-up- every week if he didn’t want to have you around him?”

Ichigo refused to let hope take over reason. He knew it would be the beginning of his downfall.

“He’s using me to get stronger. It has always been the deal. He’s using me, I’m using him.”

Voice devoid of sentiment, he tried to persuade himself of this depressing fact one more time.

“You’re an idiot. But I’m going to help you anyway.”

She straightened her back, stretched her slender limbs and jumped to her feet. Ichigo’s eyes followed her jittery movements lazily.

“And how do you plan on doing that?”

“First, I’m going to threaten your life. Because I didn’t forget why I’m here in the first place. And then I’ll tell nii-sama that you drugged me and transformed me into a rabbit-shinigami.” The murderous smile was back. Ichigo had not miss it.

“I fail to see how drowning in my own puddle of blood will help me.”

“You won’t drown in your blood, because you’re going to hide,” she told him quietly, as if confessing an important secret.

Hide? There was no way Ichigo Kurosaki was going to hide. Insulted by the thought, he was going to tell Rukia where she could put her unwanted help but she suddenly rested a cold finger against his lips.

“You’re going to hide in Hueco Mundo. Nii-sama complained about the sand in his hair for weeks after he returned from that place. There is no way he would go there again willingly. Except, you know, if it was a life or death situation.”

“Yeah right. As soon as Grimmjow learns that I’m hiding, he will kill me himself.”

And won’t fight him ever again. Grimmjow did not grace weaklings that have the need to hide with his presence.

“Lie, then. You don’t have a choice anyway. I’m calling nii-sama right now to inform him.”

Panicking, he looked at Rukia and then to the phone in her hand.  
He’d made up his mind.

Sighing, already regretting his next move, he quickly took Rukia’s chin in his hand and lifted her head. She flinched at the resolved look in his eyes.

“Don’t you dare gro-” Ichigo growled at her face once more and ran in the opposite direction immediately after she froze in place. That will earn him some time.

He had three minutes left to hand the watch to Urahara.  
And not much more if he wanted to arrive at Hueco Mundo in one piece.  
Spending a little time with the arrancar couldn’t hurt, right?


	2. Hueco Mundo and hollow feelings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!  
> Chapter 2 is out!  
> These chapters are longer than they were supposed to. I'm not sure it's going to remain a 4 + 1.  
> Also, I took some liberties with Ichigo's powers ;)  
> I updated this chapter with my beta's corrections! Huge thanks to oldtown156 for helping me out.  
> If you want to chat, hit me up on Tumblr! I'm clumzyblaze on there too.  
> Hope you like it, enjoy!

“You want me to what?”

Grimmjow’s eyes were wide, his voice incredulous. His hand not quite on his sword’s hilt yet, movement aborted when Ichigo began talking.

“I want you to help me train my hollow powers without me changing my form,” Ichigo repeated, forcing himself to stay still under the arrancar’s scrutinizing gaze.

It seemed a little rude.

“Please, dickhead.”

There, all better.

Grimmjow blinked.

“Let me get this straight. To reiterate, you show up unannounced in Hueco Mundo one day before our usual meetings, and you want me to teach you how to use your hollow powers better.”

Ichigo nodded, his right hand clasped tightly around Zangetsu’s shaft, his blade’s weight resting reassuringly on his shoulders.

It was the only idea Ichigo came up with to explain his presence in Hueco Mundo to Grimmjow. Saying that he was there to hide from Byakuya Kuchiki because he’d transformed the captain’s sister into a rabbit shinigami for a few hours was out of the question. Plus, the ginger had wanted to ask Grimmjow to train his hollow powers since they had started to warm up to each other. Today seemed like the perfect opportunity.

“You’re aware that you’re asking the guy - who you’ve been fighting every week for months now - to teach you how to get stronger? Just how hard did you hit that electric pole earlier?”

Ichigo was beginning to think that affronting Byakuya was not such an awful fate after all.  
His request to Grimmjow, despite Ichigo’s eagerness, went against everything they had built so far.  
They fought, they bickered and they fought some more. That was their relationship. Sure, sometimes, when they had fought so hard they had to lay on the ground for a few hours just to gather the strength to get up, they would talk a bit. It was easier to talk when your brain was assaulted by electric shocks of debilitating pain and your body freed from its usual restlessness. Ichigo guessed it was the same for Grimmjow. The Arrancar always seemed more open, less elusive after a good fight.

They both knew it made them stronger. But never had they mentioned training to one another.  
Hell, Grimmjow’s fighting style had even changed since they first began. His speed had increased. He was more focused in battle, and more patient. Where his attacks used to be composed of multiple, painful hits, they had became fewer, deadlier blows.  
Ichigo’s too. His aim was undoubtedly better. Fighting with raw strength was not going to cut it with an adversary like the arrancar. He became more flexible, adapting himself to Grimmjow’s insane suppleness. He learned to be more sly, to hit exactly where he knew it would hurt the most. He had never paid attention to those details before.

If Ichigo were honest with himself, he knew it didn’t happen by accident, either. He’d embraced Grimmjow’s fighting style and tried to mimic him. And he knew the former Espada had done the same.

The results were there, clear as day and impossible to ignore. But was never admitted to themselves aloud.

Well, Ichigo thought. Time to stop beating around the bush and say it already.

“Yes, I am. You know full well we’ve been teaching each other since we’ve started this thing.” He gestured at Grimmjow and himself with a lazy hand movement. “And you’re the obvious choice for hollow training. Plus, you would have bitched at me if I had trained with someone else and wasn’t able to fight you at my best. So I’m saving us some time.”

Grimmjow really would have too. Ichigo had seen the arrancar’s resentful glances the few times he had showed up with scars and bruises that weren’t his own. And heard him mumbling under his breath about a “stupid shit shinigami who couldn’t even wait one week to have his ass handed to him”.

“But if you don’t wanna, I can always ask Shinji.”

He couldn’t. Shinji was very busy nowadays, and he would tell him to go bother someone else. But Grimmjow didn’t need to know that.  
Grimmjow’s eyes narrowed. He slid his fingers in the opening of his jaw mask, where bony artificial teeth split, and scratched the pale skin under it.  
Ichigo wondered what the skin would feel like under his fingertips.

“I’ll do it. As long as the teaching involves actual fighting and you don’t expect me to be a patient teacher.”

That was surprisingly easy. And quick. Ichigo expected a little more reluctance. Not that he was going to point it out.  
The Soul Reaper swung his sword off his shoulders and drove its dramatically long blade into the white sand under his feet, bending his back slightly to lay his forearms on its handle.

“That’s settled then. So, what are we starting with?”

Ichigo tried his best to hide his impatience and exhilaration. Did a poor piss job of it. Then shrugged it off. It was normal to feel excited, no need to fret about Grimmjow’s reaction.

“Eager now, are we?” He was all sharp edges, blue glow and buzzing, powerful energy. Ichigo could not even dream of resisting him. “I hope you warned someone that you were going to be busy for a few hours. Or days. I’ll pass on seeing all of Soul Society barging in on my desert looking for their precious world-savior.”

Hard sentence but silky tone, lips lifting at the used-to-be-insult-turned-term-of-endearment. Grimmjow had softened some since their first fight.

“Yeah, I did.”

He’d called his sisters just before taking off to Hueco Mundo. They were used to him disappearing to go fight with Grimmjow by now. Yuzu had even baked some muffins for Ichigo to bring one time. Ichigo had been flabbergasted. “Ichi-nii, I was this close to kicking you out of the house before you started to train with Grimmjow. So I want to thank him for making you more livable.” She had pouted when he had explained that the blue-haired man couldn’t eat them because of him being a hollow and all. Also, Ichigo did not want to lose an arm while offering fucking chocolate chips muffins to the former Sexta Espada. For all he knew, it was considered a major offense or something in the arrancar’s twisted mind.

“Warm up time then. Don’t forget that not taking your hollow form will affect your strength. You’re going to be at least two times less powerful than usual.”

And he lunged at him, not even bothering to draw his sword, lightning-quick. Ichigo sidestepped Zangetsu to avoid being hit in the ribs by a wicked, reiatsu powered foot.

He blocked each blow with one of his own, his body immediately acclimating to the normalcy of a fight.  
Right hand colliding with a wrist, left hand stopping a kick aimed at his stomach. And then, everything was a blur of movements, snarls, tensed muscles and earth-shattering reiatsu. Heated sea and turbulent fire swirled to meet and reject each other, endlessly.

“You’re terrible at this.”

“Shut up, I’m trying to concentrate.”

Sweat on his brow, jaw clenched, Ichigo was staring hard at his hand, desperately trying to form a ball of destructive energy.  
It was immensely more difficult to summon a cero while his horns were nowhere in sight.  
Grimmjow was sitting a few meters away, head in his palms, body screaming of boredom.

“You mind if I go take a nap while you’re eye fucking your hand?”

“I’m so going to cero your face when I’m done.”

But his red pathetic ball of energy dissolved in the air again, and Ichigo’s restrained power was howling to get out.  
He heard Grimmjow snicker.

~

“I told you focusing on anger worked for me, not that it would work for you. Now snap out of it and make that horn disappear already.”

Ichigo shook his head, closed his eyes and tried to contain his scorching hollow energy.  
His horn disappeared and he lifted his gaze, catching the fleeting disappointment burning bright in Grimmjow’s eyes.  
It was the first time he’d witnessed the arrancar’s blatant interest in his hollow form.  
Thought for later, Ichigo told himself.

~

“Ok, letting you think is not working.”

Grimmjow fired a cero at his unprotected head.

“Trying to kill me is not going to work either, dumbass!”

~

It had worked.

Avoiding Grimmjow’s sharp claws and killer blows had actually worked.

Two sleepless days after the beginning of his training, the hybrid had finally, finally managed to do it.

Ichigo’s ragged breathing resonated in his ears, and a vague scent of burned skin was tingling his sensitive nose.  
His right arm was still outstretched, palm opened and fingers taut. His left hand was wrapped around his forearm, in his usual Bankai position.

“I might have been too optimistic on the ‘less powerful’ thing. Forgot you were a freak of nature,” Grimmjow said, slightly out of breath, but a toothy smile threatened to stretch to his ears.

The casual admission of his strength brought Ichigo more joy than it should have.  
One side of Grimmjow’s face had come very close to being absolutely annihilated by Ichigo’s puissant cero.  
He had not been able to aim when the sudden destructive energy had burst through his palm. Hueco Mundo’s white sand now sported a black, burned trail and a huge fuming crater where his cero had finished its course.

Grimmjow’s jacket had seen better days. The right bottom corner was still burning, and the arrancar killed the flame off with an unconcerned gesture of his hand.

“Took ya long enough, Kurosaki.”

Ichigo suddenly realised the destroyed landscape was his doing.

The immediate storm of joy and pride in his chest were so strong he lost all control on the hold he’d put on his hollow powers for days now for the sake of his training.

They exploded like a furious volcano erupting after centuries of being repressed by an unyielding force of nature.

Red, angry and ravenous reiatsu escaped from his body, surrounding him and digging hungrily on Hueco Mundo’s sand.

His hair grew long, flying around his head with his spiritual pressure in a whirlpool of imperial orange locks. His pupils turned a ruthless, blistering gold, the white of his eyes dismissed by bottomless black.

He felt his skin shifting, cellules rearranging to become harder than steel.

Now, on his head proudly stood his twisted horn.

His nails turned to claws, his wrists and ankles clothed with bright red bracelets of furr.

The fire of his reiatsu melted his uniform, revealing the firm muscles and tanned skin of the upper part of his body for the world to see.

Finally, Ichigo felt his chest gape widely, his skin and organs gnashed together to let his hollow hole take place.

Coldness invaded his limbs. Ichigo felt his body being struck by the usual numerous and foreign powerful sensations. It always seemed like his hollow powers travelled down his entire body, leaving nothing but a burning void in their path.

The hybrid still had his conscience, but fighting the emptiness storming through his mind was hard.  
He groaned, clawed hand coming up to touch his hurting head.  
Ichigo hadn’t been able to stop his transformation, his hollow powers too violent and eager after being pushed back for so long.

“I want to fight you in this form, Kurosaki. Can’t believe we didn’t do it already.”

Grimmjow’s eyes were positively shining. They roamed along his body with uncontrolled greediness, the smile on his lips obvious by the tone of his voice.  
He reached a hand towards Ichigo’s nape, surely attempting to coax him into his brutal but weirdly affectionate embrace.

But Ichigo’s predator instincts were all over the place and something about the sight of Grimmjow had made his hollow energy fiercer and angrier.  
He grabbed the offensive hand, planting his claws in the tender skin of its wrist, drawing blood despite Grimmjow’s impenetrable hierro.  
The arrancar hissed and immediately tried to withdraw his hand. But Ichigo was having none of it. He tightened his hold, distinctively hearing bones readjusting under the pressure.

Then, he tugged on Grimmjow’s wrist, bringing him closer. Face to face with the indignant arrancar, he growled low in his throat, opening his mouth so that his breath could land on the other’s face. Never breaking eye contact, Ichigo’s other hand came up to a strong pale throat.  
The stillness of the body against his calmed down his urges a little. Grimmjow’s eyes burned with rebellion, and his tensed muscles said that he would try to escape the minute he wanted to, but he still let Ichigo’s hand trace the exposed line of his throat.

Ichigo’s mind was buzzing with intoxication. His inner hollow was practically purring, and he did not have the strength to hold his animalistic needs back.  
Golden eyes firmly set on azure ones, Ichigo brushed his claws against the side of Grimmjow’s neck, coming up to touch his jaw and down to the other side.  
The emotions thundering in Grimmjow’s half lidded eyes were hard to interpret.

Anger. Acceptance. Hunger. Defiance. Curiosity. Exhilaration.

Ichigo wanted to keep touching. He wanted to draw blood, he wanted to carve sharp claws in the other’s body. He wanted to see what other emotions he could make appear in Grimmjow’s eyes.

He wanted to mark, to take.

Eyes never wavering, thumb and index on either side of Grimmjow’s jaw, he brought the arrancar’s wrist to his mouth.  
And his hot tongue lapped at the dark blood that his claws had drawn.  
His thumb traced the prominent wrist veins while his tongue fervently licked every drop of the arrancar’s blood he could reach.  
His hungry reiatsu began to calm down, an intense feeling of fulfillment taking over the previous numbness in his limbs.

He swore he could feel Grimmjow’s blood on his palate migrating to his throat, the other’s power and essence invading his every senses.

Sensory overload.  
The emotions were too strong.

Under his palm, he felt Grimmjow’s throat shifting.

“Leave your hand where it is if you want to lose it.”

The challenge in his voice angered his inner hollow even more. His power wanted, no, demanded, obedience.

The flames of his reiatsu burned anew. He dropped Grimmjow’s jaw, and doubled over under the force of the emotions that were tearing him apart.  
Grimmjow kicked him in the chin, and used his momentary weakness to get away.

“I’m trying to fight it, you idiot,” he growled at Grimmjow through a clenched jaw.

“Don’t fight it. Fight me,” the arrancar responded, fire in his oceanic eyes.

And Ichigo would have. But the taste of that potent blood was still searing on his tongue, and he didn’t trust himself.

Lost in his thoughts, battling against his desire to fight and his need to get away from Grimmjow, Ichigo had not noticed the arrancar getting closer, until a fist collided with his solar plexus.  
His head snapped towards Grimmjow, golden eyes zeroing in on his opponent.

“Yes!”, the madman howled. “Keep that look on your face, Kurosaki.”

“You were supposed to teach me,” he managed to grit out, the force of his outrage so strong it burnt his lungs, making it very difficult to articulate.

“I am teaching you,” Grimmjow deadpanned. His voice was calm, but the tension in his muscles was very visible to Ichigo’s predator’s eyes.

"Sorry, I might be kind of slow on the uptake, but what am I supposed to learn from this?"

The ginger was shaking. The usual ecstasy of letting himself go was slowly taking over his sanity. It felt so good. His power was flowing in his veins like hot, thick lava. He wanted nothing more than to let it out. An obscene amount of reiatsu was pouring from him continuously, bathing him in it.  
He wanted to test his abilities, fight until nothing was left.

“The key to controlling this form is learning to control your urges. Fight your emotions. Fight them, tame them, and then you can use your powers at their full capacity.”

Grimmjow’s voice brought him back to reality.

“I thought hollows couldn’t feel shit!” His voice was so deep it might as well have been someone else’s.

“That’s a load of bullcrap and you, above anyone else, should know it,” the arrancar hissed through his white, so white teeth.

Grimmjow was suddenly too close. Why was he so close?  
Get away, get away. Can’t fight it, can’t fight this. Fingers itching to touch. Mind screaming for proximity. Body roaring under the other’s spiritual pressure.  
Was that a challenge?  
He bit his tongue so hard that blood flowed in his mouth, mingling with the remnants of Grimmjow’s.

Blue, blue all around him.

“You’re not doing anyone any favors by being afraid of what you are.”

Grimmjow was standing right in front of him. The only hint of his discomfort was in the clenching of his jaw, the unusual rigidness of his spine and the slight buckle of his knees. Ichigo knew he was only standing because of sheer stubbornness. His spiritual pressure was too high, anyone else would have been slouched on the ground, begging for mercy.

“I am not afraid.”

If only words could express how he loved being in this form. How he reveled in having this level of power.

“Disgusted then,” Grimmjow spat at him, judgment written all over his demonically beautiful features.

Ichigo was so not disgusted by what he was. He only wished he could control it.

“I am not! I don’t understand what you’re saying, I can’t tame emotions if I can’t feel a single damn thing over this fucking anger!”

Then, Grimmjow’s hand was on his jaw, hard grip pressing on his cheekbones and skin colliding with his teeth.  
Kill, kill, kill.  
Blue eyes boring into gold ones.  
Fury fighting fury.  
Kiss, kiss, kiss.

"Concentrate, damnit!," Grimmjow snarled at him.

Hot breath against his cheek, fingers digging more into his jaw.

“What are your truly feeling?”

Why the fuck was Grimmjow talking to him about feelings? He was in his hollow form, his hollow hole was sucking up everything except this incandescent anger.  
If Ichigo concentrated more on it, he was going to blow this fucking desert to bits, and the moronic, reckless arrancar with it.  
But at the thought of Grimmjow’s power disappearing, the hybrid’s whole being was invaded by utter, absolute, agonizing grief. He forgot how to breathe, his muscles paralyzed.  
He groaned, the alien sensation of feeling something new in his hollow form so destabilizing and extreme, that he lost sight of his surroundings.  
His reiatsu fell back to an appropriate level, all strength and will to fight leaving him altogether.  
He heard Grimmjow exhale a relieved breath.

“I-I don’t. What the fuck.”

“Took your sweet time, Kurosaki. Still feeling nothing?”

And with just that, the gates were opened. Emotions, far too powerful for Ichigo to resist, came flowing down on him like devouring, savage and devastating waves. His legs nearly gave out under him, but a strong arm wrapped around his middle, offering him support.

His pain. I was never powerful enough to save them. Blood, dark, water, psychotic laughter.

His anxiety. Will I ever be good enough? Helpless, suffocating, purple, bone deep panic.

His fear. So many people are looking up to me. What if I’m not who they think I am? Onyx, heart stopping despair, nightmares, monstrous lies.

Sadness. Just once, can’t I grieve what I’ve lost, too? Orange, agony, dry tears, empty everything.

His excitement. I’m powerful enough to protect everyone I love. Red, gold, white madness and black wisdom.

His confusion. What is my place in all of this? Sunless place, blue sky, cold abandon, hysteric mind.

His love. I’ll die before I lose anyone else. Endless source, crimson determination, cerulean power, irrational dread.

His lust. I want him so bad. Blue, blue, blue.

And so many others his overstimulated mind couldn’t analyse.

Ichigo considered himself pretty experienced when it came to human emotions. His childhood and his extra curricular activities didn’t give him much of a choice.  
But never in his life had he been so submerged by them. Their intensity was unheard of. If not for Grimmjow’s arm around him and his hand on his jaw, grounding him, he would be on the ground right now, withering in the sand, struggling to get away from them.

“Feeling everything, you mean? What the fuck,” he finally managed to say, mouth dry, voice hoarse and tongue heavy.

“Your so called emptiness not so empty after all, hm?” The arm around him squeezed one last time and let go. Grimmjow used the hand on his jaw to bring his head up.  
Ichigo was immediately immersed in consuming blue eyes, filled with poorly hidden concern and flaring willpower.

“Why-” he started, not sure what he wanted to ask.

“Being a hollow doesn’t obliterate feelings, it emphasizes them. That’s why half of us are crazy. The intensity of your feelings was just so foreign to you that your dumb shinigami brain catalogued it as emptiness when it was the exact opposite,” Grimmjow interrupted his unarticulated question.

“This doesn’t make any sense. Why is it the first time I’m experiencing this?”

“It’s easier to focus on anger because you can directly act on it. Murdering, fighting, taking, it’s easy. Dealing with emotions that you can’t appease right away is harder. Your hollow side naturally buries them to protect you. That’s why you couldn’t tell right away. When you’re made aware of it though, there’s no turning back.”

Who knew Grimmjow could be such a good teacher?

Ichigo was having trouble maintaining eye contact, lust threatening to take over the other crushing emotions.  
He fisted his hands, long nails digging into his skin. The temporary pain did nothing to appease his urges.

Had Grimmjow always smelled this good?  
Blood, power, raging storm, turbulent ocean, mountain breeze and dry smoke.

He couldn’t refrain from sniffing him a little, trying to be discreet. The amused brow lift Ichigo received in response indicated that he had failed.

‘Don't look at the tattoo. Don't look at the tattoo,’ he muttered to himself like a mantra. He was done for if he did.

“I’m going to have to deal with all of that every time I turn back into hollow mode?”

Ichigo had to talk or else he was going to jump on the arrancar.

“Well, yes. Don’t give me that look, it doesn’t suit you,” Grimmjow scolded him.

“On the bright side, once you learn to control them, you’ll be more powerful in this form. Can’t tell you they won’t overwhelm you from time to time, but it gets easier with practice. Now take a deep breath, or whatever works to calm you down, and snap. Out. Of. It.” Grimmjow had grabbed Ichigo’s horn with a powerful grip and was swinging it from right to left while he talked, interested eyes seemingly cataloguing Ichigo’s every reaction. Ichigo did not have the heart to tell him to stop. Every physical contact with the arrancar was torture and heaven all at once.

“I’m not going to stay here while you deal with your feelings.”

After long, exhausting seconds, Ichigo managed to keep his reiatsu under control. The former shock caused by his emotions slowly died down, leaving him overwhelmed but capable of thoughts.

Which enabled him to have an existential crisis, right in the middle of Hueco fucking Mundo.

“Oh my god, I’m a vampire.”

Grimmjow gave him a slightly confused look, but a smile was starting to form on his pinched lips.

“You know, because of the whole ‘more intense feelings’ and shit,” he added, to make sure Grimmjow understood where he was coming from.

The confusion gave place to utter bafflement.

“Thought you were referring to the more obvious, whole ‘sucking the blood from your veins’ and shit. But I guess you’re really not into making sense, even once in a blue moon.”

Ichigo choked on his spit.

He had forgotten this little detail. He had not thought much of it while doing it, too deep into his animalistic needs. But now, with an almost sane mind and Grimmjow’s intent eyes staring at him, he felt the weight of his actions falling like hard bricks on his shoulders.

He had, indeed, drank Grimmjow’s blood. He remembered every swipe of his tongue. He could visualize his brazen familiarity and shameless sensuality.

He coughed to hide his embarrassment.

“Oh. Yeah. Is it a hollow thing too?”

Please, let it be a hollow thing. Ichigo could live with that. But if it turned out to be yet another ‘weird shit Ichigo does’, he was not sure he could handle it.

Grimmjow shattered all his hopes several seconds after, without an ounce of empathy.

“Not that I know of. But then again, never met anyone crazy enough to even entertain the idea while fighting me.”

Man down, man down, Ichigo thought.

Ok. Well, Ichigo figured he was already so deep there was no harm in digging a little further, so he spoke his mind boldly.

“Oh. I would apologize, I swear, but I can still feel you on my tongue, and sorry is the last thing on my mind right now.”

He could make pass it off for the aftermath of all those emotions if Grimmjow got stuck on his unusual statement.  
It seemed like the hybrid blamed his state of confusion a lot, nowadays. No harm in it, if it allowed him to get away with this kind of dangerously too honest admission, he told himself.

A savage glint appeared in Grimmjow’s eyes. He cracked his knuckles and cocked his head to the side. Soft, radiant, wild blue hair caressed his forehead. Ichigo’s fingers itched to touch.

“No need to apologize.”

What did it mean? Was Grimmjow accepting it? Ichigo’s mind raced.

“I’m just going to make you regret it.”

Aaand that was the end of his living fantasy. Of course Grimmjow would not accept any apologies and would prefer to fight it out. What did he expect?

Actively engrossed in profusely cursing to himself, Ichigo missed Grimmjow’s sudden movement and could do nothing to stop the hand on his horn from pulling him down. The vicious grip dragged him down quickly, and Ichigo found himself on his knees, ass in the air, forehead flattened against the sand, his horn buried in the sand below.

He ate sand while howling like a kicked puppy. Tried to close his mouth to prevent any more from entering. Realized he had to spit what he already had in his mouth. Ichigo spat some excess even if most of it got stuck on his tongue. Swallowed in reflex because he was a certified moron. Succeeded in not gagging, which he considered a pretty big victory.

Then, he realized he couldn’t move his head.

He gave an experimental pull.

Fuck. His. Life.

His horn was stuck.

Had Hueco Mundo’s sand been shifting sands all along?

“Now that’s just brilliant,” his assigned life torturer said.

He just growled, desperately trying to get his horn free by pushing with his hands.  
But nothing was working. The sand was relentless and seemed to be determined to keep him right where he was.

Grimmjow crouched down beside him so that Ichigo could see the arrancar on the edge of his vision without having to turn his head.  
Ichigo was trying very hard not to feel ashamed. It was the damn electric pole all over again. And the two happened in such a short period of time it was mortifying.

“Fucking ask, next time,” Grimmjow said, heat in his voice. But Ichigo did not understand nor acknowledged it, too busy trying to free himself.

“Ask what?,” he groaned.

Grimmjow’s face expressed sheer disbelief. He shook his head, got to his feet, and said humorlessly but softly, “You’re so dumb sometimes, it physically hurts.”

Ichigo startled at the insult, failing to spot the fondness of the tone.

“Uncalled for!” he yelled at Grimmjow’s retreating back.

Wait. Retreating back?

“You’re not going to leave me out there, are you?”

“If you’re not capable of freeing yourself, you’re not worthy enough to be my pupil, Kurosaki.”

“I’m not your pupil, you ass!”

“Yeah, yeah. Talk to me when you think you can surpass the master. Until then…”

And giving his signature languorous hand salute, Grimmjow took off with sonido, leaving nothing but the memory of his strong spiritual pressure in his path.  
Ichigo spent an embarrassingly long amount of time trying to free his horn. Then he finally understood that getting rid of his hollow form would get the job done faster.

The hybrid would later blame Grimmjow’s infuriating personality. And unfairly irresistible anatomy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think!


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